King With A Cardboard Crown
by gopuckyourself
Summary: Sometimes you don't need anybody to point out that you're a good person. Sometimes, you just know.


**This is more of an introspective Puck piece than anything else. There are hints of Puckleberry, but mostly it's just our favorite badass. I haven't actually written fanfiction in a few years, so forgive me for being a bit rusty. I don't own Glee or any of it's characters, but if I could, I'd buy Noah Puckerman's Star Wars briefs on ebay.**

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I'm good at helping people. I've spent so much time over the past two weeks trying to figure out what I'm good at, and tonight, it finally dawned on me. I can make people smile. Somewhere, somebody's considering making some lame correlation between me and that fruity fairy from that old dude's play, but there's nothing about me that's small, and no way in hell am I ever putting on a pair of tights. Besides, he just pranced around and fucked with people, this is about me realizing I'm good at something.

I've always been a failure, and yeah, I have these moments of realization and I try to fix it because who the fuck REALLY wants to spend the rest of their lives cleaning pools? I'm not gonna say I've actually put a lot of effort into making something of myself, because I haven't. I've always been the laid back dude who figured that worst case, I could stand in front of Home Depot and get by on construction jobs that pay under the table. It's not like I need much to get by, just enough to keep my truck running and food on the table once I get out of my mom's house.

I did the saving money thing, and LA actually seemed like something I could do, but my dad showed up out of fucking nowhere and asked for a handout. Not cool. I wasn't lying when I told the guys that at that moment I pictured myself asking Beth for a handout a few years down the line and hated what I saw. That was the truth. The lie had been that I hadn't just given him five hundred bucks, I'd given him almost three grand, which was literally everything in the shoebox under my bed that I'd used to save up for LA, and I'd actually asked him to go get a drink with me after I handed it over. He'd made some lame excuse and peaced out as soon as he had what he wanted, and a part of me couldn't help but feel like shit. I don't want to be that guy. The other shoebox under my bed, that has almost seven grand in it for Beth that I've been saving since junior year? I think that shows that I'm better than that.

I can't do anything with it right now though. I tried to give it to Shelby when she and B came back to Ohio, but she wouldn't take it. She said to put it towards MY future, but it doesn't feel right, so I've just been keeping it. Maybe I'll have enough to buy B a car when she turns sixteen or something. I might not have custody of her, and I might only get to see her once a month when I drive out to Cleveland for dinner with her and Shelby, but she's still my baby girl and I still want to take care of her and to see the smile on her face. It's a lot easier to smile when you feel like shit when somebody else is smiling because of you.

Rachel's the one who first made me realize it. Admittedly, half the time I offer to help her is because sexual tension is kind of hot and her legs are even hotter, and the fact that it always feels like we're about to make out no matter who we're with, that butterfly feeling, it's nice. The other times it's because making her smile makes me feel like I've actually been able to do something good. Like when I could get Beth to stop crying when Quinn couldn't. It's probably wrong to be kind of smug about that, but it's one of the best ego boosts a guy can get. Rachel's like Beth in that sense. Not in the creepy way, because incest isn't something I'm into, but in the sense that she's small and every single time I see her cry a part of me feels like the world is going to end if I can't make it better. So I try, and when she smiles, that weird panicky feeling inside of me is replaced by something that I can only describe as warm. Like… somebody roasted a marshmallow and was injecting that sweet gooey goodness into my blood or something. I feel full and content, and maybe just a little bit proud of myself.

So yeah, finding out that I'm not graduating was a blower. I know it's my fault; that I fucked up, but like… I'm the cool guy. The sexy badass who's supposed to be able to float through everything without a care. McKinley should give me an honorary degree for awesome, you know? I don't know why I thought trying to cram for one test was going to somehow bail me out, but I did. I've been down in the dumps, I've been moping, I've been doing that thing where I convince myself that nobody really needs me. That thing where like… if I didn't secretly know I was awesome and was a weaker person, I would probably do something dumb like try to hurt myself. It's easy to convince yourself that nobody cares when it's the truth. I'm Puck, I'm easily the hottest guy in school, but I'm not somebody that anybody actually takes seriously. That only bothers me sometimes.

But like, this past week has just been a shit storm. I blame prom, and the fact that like, every teen movie ever says that this is the last big thing you do as a high school senior. It's kind of hard getting amped up for something when you know it's NOT the last thing you're going to do and that you have to do it all over again next year. Like seriously, who am I supposed to take to my super senior prom, Blaine? Not that it matters, but just like… everyone who seemed to conveniently care at the right time that I try to pass my test doesn't seem to give a shit that I'm being held back. My best friends care more about what they're wearing to a fucking dance than the fact that my entire world's been turned upside-down and as un-badass as it is, it fucking hurts.

Like, I thought that at the very least Rachel would be with me. We've always had this unspoken thing that linked us together, you know? And she choked at her audition for NYADA just as bad as I choked on my test. She saw her own dreams go down the drain just like I saw mine get flushed, but like… she doesn't care. Not about herself, not about me, not about anything that doesn't have to do solely with Finn. And I'm used to that, I am. It doesn't bother me as much as it used to because I've gotten used to the fact that Rachel Berry is a pod-person now and nothing like the girl I fell for in sophomore year, but like… the one thing that never did change about her was that she always seemed to care. She told me I could do things, she told me she believed in me, and like… I've just been hit with a huge fucking whammy and she doesn't even ask me if I'm okay.

I figured that going to her anti-prom could potentially make things a little better. Finn was going to actual prom with Quinn, Rachel was in the mood she was always in when she paid the most attention to me, maybe we could actually talk again. Even if she didn't want to, I figured being around her and showing that I could be there for her when her boyfriend couldn't would earn me bonus points or something, you know? I got the beer, I put on the Puck face, and I figured that by the end of the night, the two of us would be hammered and getting cozy in a corner somewhere or something. Of course shit can't work out though, you know? Finn showed up and saved the day, and even when I made the comment that I could just go to prom next year, nobody gave a shit. Like… if I'd been Quinn or Kurt or Santana even, they'd have dragged me, but they just didn't care enough to make the effort and it hurt.

Spending prom night getting drunk and naked with Becky Jackson was never a scenario that I could have even imagined. It's not even that she's different, because like, Noah Puckerman is an equal opportunity manstud, but she's modeled herself after Sylvester, and that shit's just scary. But sitting in that room with her, listening to her make comments and talk smack about people, I started thinking about things. She wasn't any different than me. She probably didn't look as good in Star Wars underwear as I did, but she was somebody that people never actually gave a chance to. She didn't even ask to win prom queen, she just wanted to be nominated, you know? I know a lot of the girls on the cheerios squad had enough pull that they could have put her name on the ballot at least. Hell, if I'd have known it was the girl's like, dream, I'd have gladly done it, but apparently sometimes people just don't care.

So yeah, that's when I realized it. I AM good at something. I can make people feel good, and not just in the mind blowing orgasm sense. Becky may have been hitting on me and checking out my bulge, but I think more than anything she was happy I was just listening to her, and that I wasn't her coach that felt closer to her because she reminded her of her dead sister. No offense to Sue Sylvester or anything, because even I can admit that it's obvious she cares about people and whatever, but like, Becky's a teenage girl, just because she looks a little different doesn't mean she shouldn't get to have the things she wants too.

It was my moment. I got up, I put my clothes on, and I made two of the most badass crowns out of my empty case of beer. Channeling my inner big brother persona, I thought of every lame princess game my sister had made me play with her and I crowned Becky Queen of the anti-prom. I even gave a speech, and crowned myself king. We looked in the mirror, the most unconventional pair, wearing multicolored cardboard on our heads and feeling like complete and utter failures, but that wasn't what was reflected back. Instead, I saw a girl who had a genuine smile on her face for the first time all night. Who was looking at me as if I'd just made all her dreams come true. The way Becky looked in that moment was how I hoped Beth looked every moment of her life. Truly and blissfully happy. My own smile came next, and so did my Noah. I was getting myself back. I stood up a little straighter and could feel the confidence coming back. I didn't need all of them to dote on me, to pay attention to me, because I was a good person and I could make people happy.

Walking into the McKinley gym with Becky on my arm was one of the best moments I've had all year. I don't care if people were looking at us funny, I don't care if they were going to start rumors about us, or say anything rude behind our backs. I cared that right now, there was somebody who was having a good time because of me. That somebody was going to be able to look back on high school and remember Noah Puckerman, the hero, not Noah Puckerman the fuck up. I cared that right now, I felt more like myself, more at home, than I had in a long time. For the first time in years, I felt like everything might actually be okay. If I didn't go to college, if I didn't become a rock star or trophy husband, it didn't mean I was any less awesome than I actually am, because I, Noah Puckerman, am good at making people smile.


End file.
